


Temptation

by Allekha



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Handporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2144985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise is what she wants, but Spock is quite a prize, himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melospiza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melospiza/gifts).



How _intriguing_ , that the flagship of the Federation would simply fly into Romulan territory. She would think that they would be more subtle about things if they wanted to spy; why send so obvious a ship, without even trying to hide it? 

But there are no other ships around (and if there were, they too would be swiftly caught by patrols), and _Enterprise_ would be such a prize to bring home. So she tells Tal to give them an Earth hour. Just a little time, and enough to keep them from activating the self-destruct mechanism right away. 

Time passes. She combs her hair, curling the tips around her fingers, and checks her makeup. Still the captain of _Enterprise_ does not contact her. Too much time has passed, and growing impatient, she demands that he and his first officer be brought to her. Then she sits down in her chair, turning toward the wall to contemplate what information she has, what strings she can pull. 

~!~ 

They are brought to her in short order. "Captain Kirk," she greets as she faces them. The captain must be the one standing slightly in front, with more glitter on his wrists. He is a plain human; she's never liked the looks of them, their skin strangely red, their ears round and ugly, and the plain Starfleet uniforms don't flatter him any. 

His first officer is a Vulcan. 

"Commander. I'm honored," Kirk says, smiling slightly. As if they are meeting on good terms. She can appreciate that. 

She smiles ever-so-slightly back. "I don't think so," she replies, standing. She comes around her desk, continuing, "But we have an important matter to discuss. And your superficial courtesies are an overture to that discussion." She stops in front of them, giving them a closer look. There must be something she can use here. "You are the first officer?" 

He nods, slow and controlled. "Spock." 

Something about him is fascinating, but she first has a job to do. "I speak first with the captain. You may wait outside," she tells him. He trades a long look with his captain as he leaves, silent. 

~!~ 

"Spock, come in." She comes around her desk after he enters, taking a moment to consider him again. She glances at Kirk. 

"The captain has made his statement." 

He, too, glances at his captain, before returning his dark gaze to her. "I understand." 

Time to try another tactic. If the captain will not admit his wrongdoing plainly.... "I must admit some surprise on seeing you, Spock." She notices the expression on Kirk's face, trying to read what she is doing, from the corner of her eye, though her gaze remains fixed on Spock. "We were not aware of Vulcans aboard the Enterprise." 

"Starfleet is not in the habit of informing Romulans of its ships' personnel." 

She cannot help but smile a little at that. "Quite so. Yet there are certain ships..." She looks again at Kirk, whom so many rumor float about, "certain... officers, that are known to us. Your situation appears most interesting." 

"What earns Spock your special interest?" 

Is he playing at an idiot, or trying to take her attention away from Spock, or does he truly not understand? "He is a Vulcan. Our forebears had the same roots and origins. Something you wouldn't understand, Captain. We can appreciate the Vulcans, our distant brothers." Well, not all Romulans can. But she has always found them more tolerable, at least in theory, than most other races, and better to look at besides. 

She strides past the captain in deliberate, measured steps, not sparing him a look, and approaches Spock. "I have heard of Vulcan integrity and personal honor. There's a well-known saying, or is it a myth, that Vulcans are incapable of lying?" 

"It is no myth." 

She nods. She expected as much. "Then tell me truthfully now, by your honor as a Vulcan, what was your mission?" 

"I reserve the privilege of speaking only when it will not violate my honor as a Vulcan." 

"It is unworthy of a Vulcan to resort to subterfuge." 

"You're being clever, Commander. That is unworthy of a Romulan. It is not a lie to keep the truth to oneself." 

Aaah. "Then there is a truth here that remains unspoken," she says lightly, spreading her arms as she turns back to Kirk. 

"You've been told everything. There's nothing else to say." His voice is far too hurried. The lie couldn't be more obvious if he actually tried. 

"There is Mister Spock's unspoken truth," she replies, gesturing. The look on Kirk's face is _wonderful_. "You knew of the cloaking device that we have developed." He breaks their eye contact, just for a moment, but it's confirmation enough. "You deliberately violated Romulan space with a blatant spy mission, by order of the Federation–" 

He interrupts her – "We've been all through that, Commander!" 

"We have not even begun!" She slams her hand on her desk. She's getting too fired up, and it's not helping any. With her long years of training, it only takes a moment for her to calm herself, bring her mind back down to reason. 

Kirk's brow is furrowed, his fists tight and shoulders tense. Spock is the picture of Vulcan calm. "There's no force that I can use on a Vulcan that will make him speak. That is a fact." She should know; she has tried, but they are as stubborn as Romulans with their secrets. She looks at Kirk. "But there are Romulan methods completely effective against humans and human weaknesses." Kirk's brow furrows further at her words. 

And it certainly seems to get Spock's attention. "You would not resort to them, Commander," he says, moving. He positions himself opposite from her, behind his captain. "They would prove ineffective against the captain." 

"Then they will leave him dead, or what might be worse than dead. But I will know your unspoken truths." 

"Let her rant. There's nothing to say." So he says. But they are shallow words – his eyes are intense upon her. 

"I cannot allow the captain to be further destroyed." Kirk half-turns, as if to interrupt him in protest, then thinks better of it halfway through, but he carries through the motion as Spock continues, "The strain of command has worn heavily upon him. He's not been himself for several weeks." 

Oh, now, isn't _this_ interesting? 

"That's a lie!" 

"As you can see, Captain Kirk is a highly sensitive and emotional person. I believe he has lost the capacity for rational decision." 

A mad captain, leading his crew toward certain destruction? 

"Shut up, Spock!" 

"I'm betraying no secrets," he tells Kirk in an even voice. He looks at her again as he says, "The commander's suspicion that Starfleet ordered the _Enterprise_ into the Neutral Zone is unacceptable. Our rapid capture demonstrates its foolhardiness." 

"You filthy liar!" 

"I am speaking the truth for the benefit of the _Enterprise_ and the Federation. I say now and for the record, that Captain Kirk ordered the _Enterprise_ across the Neutral Zone on his own initiative and his craving for glory." 

Her guards are on him instantly. "I'll kill you, you filthy traitor! I'll kill you!" His face is distorted with his rage, making him even uglier. Are humans so controlled by their emotions, their anger? She wouldn't have made it past foot soldier if her temper had been so terrible. "I'll-- kill you!" 

Spock does not react to Kirk's words, his face as blank as when he first walked into her office. "He is _not_ sane." 

Certainly he doesn't look it, his eyes so wide she can see the full curve of his iris, his teeth bared. She watches him closely as she seats herself down and opens a channel to _Enterprise_. As she explains to the crew there what shall happen to them, she sees the expression slowly melt from his face, simmering rather than boiling. 

The engineer protests her orders, as she was expecting. But in her experience there are, in fact, few people who are really, truly willing to die for their cause in a heartbeat. If these humans were among those few, why have they not yet primed their weapons, why do they not fire, knowing the Romulans will not let them go easily? 

Kirk's yelling is starting to irritate her. She orders him taken away and watches Spock's face as he goes rather than Kirk's. Finally, a small flicker of an expression; just as the door closes Spock glances down, the corner of his eyes falling slightly. Is it sadness? Does he care for his captain? 

"A Vulcan among humans," she muses. She shakes her head at the thought. "Living, working with them. I would think the situation would be intolerable to you." 

"I am half Vulcan. My mother is a human." 

What? 

She has _heard_ of hybrids, but they are so extremely rare, to think that she has just run into one - and not a cross between a Romulan and Vulcan, which might be reasonably accomplished, but between two disparate species. A flood of questions comes over her mind. How was it accomplished? How does he identify himself? Does it split his mind - or strain his body, or.... 

She picks the most pertinent. "To whom is your allegiance then? Do you call yourself Terran or Vulcan?" 

"Vulcan." 

That is pleasing. And it might make him easier to work with, as well. She relaxes back into her chair and rests a hand on her stomach, asking, "How long have you been a Starfleet officer, Spock?" 

"Eighteen years." 

"And you serve Captain Kirk. Do you like him? Do you like your shipmates?" Things she needs to know, yes. If he is attached to his captain, it will make things much more difficult for her. But she is curious to know the answer, as well. There are as many rumors about Vulcan loyalty as there are around their honesty. 

"The question... is irrelevant," he replies, raising his eyebrows. And after they just established that Vulcans do not lie, too. Is that a 'yes', then? 

"Possibly, but you are subordinate to Captain Kirk's orders, even to his whims." 

"My duty as an officer is to obey him." 

As is _any_ officer's duty to their superiors. This is not new information. Impatient, she drums her fingers against her belt before deciding to try something different. She sits up. "You are a superior being. Why do you not command?" 

He quirks his eyebrows again, as if he words are confusing. "I do not desire a ship of my own." 

Impossible. Who would ever be so abnormally devoid of ambition that they _wouldn't_ wish for a ship? "Or is it that no one has offered you, a Vulcan, that opportunity?" Surely _that_ must be the case. 

"Such opportunities _are_ extremely rare." 

Excuses. She can understand the desire to defend the institution which he has worked with for so long, but there must be a seed of resentment there, something she can tug on. "For someone with your capabilities and accomplishments, opportunities are _made_ , and will be. I will see to that, if you'll stop looking on the Federation as the whole universe." She thinks her words are having an effect; he seems to be contemplating them. "It is not, you know," she adds quietly to drive the point home. 

There is a pause. Then Spock says, "That thought has occasionally crossed my mind." 

Oh, good. She might not have him completely, yet, but she has him listening. She sinks back into her chair again. For a few moments they simple look at each other. She wonders how he judges her behind those dark eyes of his. "You must have your own ship." 

"Commander, shall we speak plainly?" He steps closer. "It is you who desperately need a ship. You want the _Enterprise_." 

She really doesn't quite have him. She holds back her frown and agrees: "Of course. It would be a great achievement for me to bring home the Enterprise intact. It would broaden the scope of my powers greatly. It would be the achievement of a lifetime." No Romulan would turn up such possibility of the broadening of their influence. It's likely she'll get a promotion out of this, more ships under her command, more resources. As long as she can keep them from blowing themselves up, of course. But if she succeeds... 

But Spock won't be drawn in on her own dreams for power. She lowers her voices slightly, adding, "And it would open equal opportunities for _you_." 

He tilts his head, clearly intrigued. 

Before she can push the point further, her line beeps. Damn the timing. This better be _important_. On hearing the Kirk has managed to stir up trouble already – how does he already need medical care? – she nearly curses, only restraining herself out of consideration for her guest. Not only would it be unprofessional, she's heard that Vulcans don't care for it, and she's not about to test that particular rumor. 

"I'll come there," she tells the guard. She looks back up at Spock. "Attend me," she says, and can't help the smile pulling at her mouth. 

~!~ 

The 'Vulcan Death Grip', hm? 

She's never heard of such a thing. But Vulcans, for all their peacefulness now, share the same violent past as Romulans. Perhaps it's a relic from that time. She likes the idea of it, at any rate, that perhaps some of that ruthlessness still runs in them yet. 

And Spock hardly blinked when he was forced to kill his insane captain. It still bothers her, that he didn't reply to her question earlier, but it looks like he can't have been too attached to Kirk. The thought pleases her. She hopes it will make it easier to persuade him to her side. 

"I've had special Vulcan dishes prepared for you," she says. He goes over to inspect them. Not replicated food, either, as she hears they always eat on the Starfleet ships, but food made from real ingredients, cooked. It is something she likes to do when she brings negotiations and guests here. The expense is always outweighed by the benefit of good food. "I hope they're to your liking?" 

"I am very flattered, Commander. There's no doubt that the cuisine aboard your vessel is far superior to that of the _Enterprise_." His eyes catch her attention again as he approaches her. "It is indeed a very powerful recruiting inducement." 

"We have other inducements." She raises the glass of beautiful blue ale – not the cheap, pale stuff, the kind that is strong and vivid – and offers it to Spock. She doesn't take her eyes from him as they toast and drink. 

Seduction is not usually necessary, and not a tool she pulls out too often – it doesn't do to make the wrong sort of reputation, after all – but it seems that it is one that Vulcans are amenable to. In this case, it is one that she thinks she will enjoy; Spock is strangely handsome for an alien, pretty black hair and dark eyes, sharp features, pointed ears. They are larger than a Romulan's, but she wants to run a finger down them all the same. 

As they eat, she steers the conversation toward his interests for a while, rather than the topic at hand – there will be plenty of time for that after dinner. She's always had a fascination for astrophysics, and while she can't entirely follow what he tells her about what he and his scientists have discovered in that area, she understands enough of it to appreciate his intelligence. The thought that someone this smart has never had his own command almost pains her; _how much more could you have discovered with your own scientific vessel_ she thinks, but she says nothing. Now is not the time to press the subject. 

When the food is almost gone, she stands to pour her favorite juice, made from a fruit she hasn't been able to taste in years – a better match for the food than more alcohol. Time to return to business. 

"You have nothing in Starfleet to which to return. I offer–" She stops herself, realizing that she may be getting into a little too much. She rephrases: "We offer you an alternative. We will find a place for you, if you wish it." 

"A place?" 

She smiles. "Mmhm. With me." She searches his face, trying to determine if that was the right thing to say. Not much of a reaction, not that she can see, anyway. 

"Romulan women are not like Vulcan females," she says. She plays with the edge of her glass, moving her fingers around the edge. "We are not dedicated to pure logic and the sterility of non-emotion." She makes a few suggestive motions with her fingers, parting the first two and last two, before taking her last sip and reclining on her bench. Her skirt rides very far up on her hip. She does not tug it down. "Our people are warriors. Often savage. But we are also many other pleasant things." 

He looks away for a few moments. "I was not aware of that aspect of Romulan society." When he looks back again, she thinks she sees desire. 

"As a Vulcan, you would study it." She shifts closer to him, leans on her forearms in a friendly manner. "As a human you would find ways to appreciate it." 

And then - he, too, leans in closer, resting casually against the arm of the couch. "Please believe me. I do... appreciate it." 

"I am so glad." She blinks slowly a couple to times to gather her wits. One more piece of business... "Now one final step to make the occasion complete. You will lead a small party of Romulans aboard the Enterprise, and there you will take your rightful place as its commander. And you will lead the ship to a Romulan port, with my flagship at its side." 

And to her relief, he nods. "Yes, of course, but not just this moment. An hour from now will do even better. Would it not, Commander?" 

Her heart flutters in the side of her chest. Just as she had hoped for. She whispers, "Yes. Yes, it will, Mister Spock. You do know I have a first name?" 

"I was beginning to wonder." 

She smiles. "Well, I do. Would you like to hear it?" 

He leans down and turns to present his ear; she pushes up to whisper her name directly into it, breathing out more than strictly necessary as she does. She wonders if Vulcan ears are like Romulan ones. Sensitive. 

After they pull away from each other - but the distance is not as much as before - Spock murmurs, "How rare, and how beautiful." Then he tilts his head and adds, "But so incongruous when spoken by a soldier." 

What a strange notion. What contradiction is there in having a beautiful name and being a soldier? Perhaps it is something he learned on Vulcan or Earth. Perhaps in Starfleet the beautiful things do not fight. She has seen cultures with infinitely more odd mores in her days on a starship. Does he mean that he wants to see her as a 'lover' rather than in her uniform? 

Thinking rapidly, she says, "If you will give me a moment, the soldier will transform herself into a woman." 

He offers no objection. She rolls up and off the couch, reaching up to tug her skirt back down over her underwear before deciding not to. Then she strolls into her bedroom, conscious of his gaze on her. 

She has no desire to let him grow bored out there, or spend time primping. In seconds she has stripped off her uniform, and her boots come off easily. There are few clothes in her closet other than uniforms. The black-and-white dress is one of her favorites, with the way it hugs her curves and shows the muscles on her arms, and she likes the potential symbolism. It goes on quickly. She picks her favorite earring up from their usual resting spot and slides them into place, as well as the matching ring. Then she spares only a few moments to adjust the shoulder strap of her dress and run a hand down her hair before stepping back out. It's been less than a minute. 

He is now standing in the middle of the room, and he looks over as the door swishes open. "Is my attire now more appropriate, Mister Spock?" she asks as she picks her way around the furniture, toward him. 

"Commander, your attire is not only more appropriate, it should actually stimulate our conversation." What a Vulcan thing to say. 

He holds up his hand, fingers parted. She mirrors him and their hands meet. 

She lets him draw his fingers down the back of her hand, stroking over her knuckles and wrist. _Oh_. Her eyelids flutter as his hand follows the lines of her tendons down her hand to her forearm, slowly sliding up onto her shoulder. She reaches out to touch his ear and his breathing hitches just _slightly_. Eyes half-lidded, she pets the tip for a few seconds, traces the curve down to his jaw as fingers touch the dip of her collar, trace up her neck. 

He curls his second two fingers when he reaches her chin, leaving the first two to ghost over her lips. Against them she murmurs, "It's hard to believe that I can be so moved by the touch of an alien hand." She rests her own against his shoulder, spreading her fingers out to feel the material of his uniform. 

"I must confess that I too am moved emotionally." His fingers brush against her cheek. "I know it is illogical." 

"Mister Spock," she chastises, drawing her hand down his arm bit-by-bit, "we mustn't question what we truly feel." She presses her lips against his fingers, looking up to see his eyes even darker than before. "Accept what is happening between us, even as I do." She leans her face into his hand, rubs her own around his back – this material is oddly stimulating, but not, she bets, as much as his skin will be-- 

Her line buzzes. She ignores it. It beeps at her again. Spock pulls his hand away, letting the fingers fall into a gentle fist. Oh, damn, _damn_. If this isn't an emergency, she will throw someone in the brig for a week. 

"Not now, Tal." 

"It is urgent, Commander." 

Dammit. If it is Tal, he knows better than to interrupt her. It really must be important. 

She makes up for it as much as she can by pressing her lips to Spock's hand for a moment, curling her own around it in a promise before going to figure out why the hell she is needed _now_. 

She is willing her body to calm as quickly as she can, but her voice still wavers somewhat when she calls, "Enter!" 

When Tal tells her that someone is making a transmission from inside her private rooms, she only has a moment to start contemplating the possibilities – including the one she'd rather not think about – before Spock emerges and shows his communicator. 

Disappointment is like lead in her stomach. Vulcan loyalty must be a strong thing after all. 

Then her brain fully kicks into Commander mode and she thinks, _why was he making a transmission from inside my room?_ There's only one thing on the ship Starfleet would want. 

"The cloaking device. Bring him." She indicates Spock as she strolls out. There's no time to change or put on shoes; she can take an intruder down in this dress if she needs to. She'd never buy anything so impractical if she couldn't. 

~!~ 

She stares forward at wall, blank-faced, as he delivers his final statement. 

In one manner, it truly stings that she could not tempt him away from the Starfleet which obviously does not appreciate him enough to a society where he would not be treated as an inferior being. To one where he could have _her_. 

In another, she can not help but admire his adherence to his duty, if not the target of that duty or his methods of subterfuge in carrying it out. Thinking back on their conversations, she is not sure that he actually told a lie at any point. Perhaps he did feel emotional when they kissed – but no matter. 

She too has her duty, and she shall carry it out, if with regrets. There will be other men and woman with pretty black hair and dark eyes and intelligence to spare, if not ones with Vulcan ears and husky voices. 

At first she thinks the hum is just her ears, but it quickly becomes something much more distinctive than that. As soon as she realizes what it means, she moves behind Spock and grabs onto his shoulders. 

~!~ 

Kirk's engineers are too clever. To take a foreign device and hook it up to their ship – in a usable manner! – in the space of thirty Earth minutes should be utterly impossible. And yet they manage it. She is envious, for the engineers on her ship aren't half as useful. 

And Kirk is too kind, to treat her as a guest rather than a prisoner. She doesn't yet understand why. Then again, she doesn't understand human psychology most of the time. 

She has endured more awkward events than her ride with Spock in the turbolift, but it is not a very long list. She does find, however, that most of her desire for him has bled away now that he is her enemy again, and not a potential ally. 

"It is regrettable that you were made an unwilling passenger. It was not intentional. All the Federation wanted was the cloaking device." 

She looks at him. "The Federation. And what did _you_ want?" 

He takes several seconds to answer. "It was my only interest when I boarded your vessel." Again with the lying-by-omission. She will need to take note of that if she ever deals with Vulcans again. 

"And that's exactly all you came away with." 

He shakes his head. "You underestimate yourself, Commander." 

She sighs and looks away. "You realize that very soon we will learn to penetrate the cloaking device you stole." 

"Obviously. Military secrets are the most fleeting of all. I hope that you and I exchanged something more permanent." 

She meets his eyes again. She thinks he almost looks sad. 

As they step out, she turns on the spot and puts a hand to his chest to stop him. 

"It was your choice," she says, letting her hand drop, scrutinizing his expression. 

"It was the only choice possible. You would not respect any other." 

No, she wouldn't, would she? How often would she worry that he was simply a Federation spy? How suspicious would she become of his action, guarding for anything even close to out of the ordinary? How much would she worry about the fleetingness of his loyalty, if he was willing to give up the people he had spent years of his life with? 

No, not in the end. But it was a nice dream. And she had enjoyed the time they spent. She would have liked to spend more with him. 

"It will be our secret." 

He takes her to her guest quarters, inclining his head as she enters. She does so as well, and then she is left alone with no parting words. 

She knows that he will not come to her alone again, and she will not seek him out. 

Now. She has several days of free time on a Federation ship. As closely as they guard her, there must be something she will be able to learn if she pays close enough attention. On top of that she has things to think about: how she will return to reclaim her ship without losing too much face, for example. 

But for now, she is tired, so she sprawls herself out on the wide bed and continues her dream. 


End file.
